Ghost To Myself

There’s many storms brewing

Yet, when I present myself to you,

I am as calm as the midday sea

I spend days fighting a never ending battle,

A war I have no chance at winning.

I pretend to be who I am not

Trapped and restrained the real me,

You’ve hurt me up so bad

Injuries they’re overwhelming,

I sit sulking away over a bottle of gin & pineapple juice

Though they do nothing to numb this pain;

I succumbed to my emotions.

My outward appearance seems strong

Yet, behind closed doors I am like a sponge submerged in water,

Reminiscing with tears as they lose grip of my water based eyes

Heaven knows I have grown weary of putting on this show,

I tire of the scenes I play

And the all too familiar cast I know,

Still, I await these curtains to come down

Putting an end to this un-going fiasco;

Maybe then I will have some closer.

© Xavier J. Frazer

Its been awhile

Hey guys sorry for my absence, been extremely busy with life and all. I recently got married and I am currently working on two unfinished manuscript. But I will be posting poems, Bi-weekly starting tomorrow.

Lifeless

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She waits tirelessly for you
Led on by the false hope
that you reassure her by
She’s covered in scars
Scar’s that can’t be seen by the naked eye
She knows pain
excruciating pain
She’s battered and bruised by your lies
To the fact that she hides from the truth
Her heart its shattered beyond recognition
Emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually
you tore her down
There’s no relief for the hurt she feels
Anaesthetic is useless when her soul is lifeless

Chaos Of The Mind

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The hardest part about living is going through life not knowing who or what I am meant to be,
I keep trying to live up to people’s expectations of me,
For some I am a friend, a motivator, an inspiration or perhaps a
beacon of hope.
So many effort put into crafting and discovering myself just to end up lost,
In a time paradox of a multi complex universe
where dreams materialise and small corporations turn in to franchise,
Misled by a delusional illusion of my mind
Like the fact that the blood beneath my skin is blue and once it hits the open air it becomes red.
As if that wasn’t already a burden,
I am left to travel along this weary path with confused souls who are like ticking time bombs with very short fuses,
This is not your ordinary muse,
I am just an average guy who refuses to be conformed, contorted by this reality with no surety of what lies in the next.
It’s just a hit, smash or pass situation causing unwanted frustration,
Disguised in an awkward mobo jumbo of black and white complications
Where my sanity is a mess and is in need of constant sanitisation.
They say a beautiful mind is attractive,
How can I see the beauty of mine, when it’s in complete chaos?

The Drums

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Can you hear them?
I hear the drums
I hear the drums
The beat
The tempo
The rhythm
The vibrations
I hear the drums
As they serenade my soul
And a silhouette they perform in my consciousness
I hear the drums
The tap
The knock
The swish
The swap
I hear the drums
Through them the voice of the ancestors speaks
As running feet carry the message from this corner to the next
I hear the drums
As I see the perplexed looks on your faces
You don’t hear what I hear
I hear the drums
If you listen more attentively you too will hear
The melodious connotations of the drums.

Dear Father

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I wish I could say I love you
And actually mean it,
I hope your day is filled with misery.
I hope as you see my face,
Your organs begin to collide and the space between your lungs become clustered,
You are unable to breathe
and in those moments,
I will forget your face.
Father after you read this,
I hope it gets worse and
if your soul yearns for happiness,
I hope you remember,
I was the first step
when you chose to skate.
Last time we spoke,
You said “I am an ungrateful,
Good for nothing, son of a bitch.”
Who the fuck gave you that right?
If I am from you,
Do we not share that “son of a bitch”gene?
Am I not the blood that runs in your veins?
Was that what you really wanted to say?
You should’ve asked your self these questions,
“Where was I when my son needed a father?”
“Where was I when he became a man with two daughters?” Trying not to make the same mistake I did.
Father when I needed you
You needed yourself,
A clear illustration of selfishness.
I had to learn from a woman,
what it meant to be a man.
Not to say something
is wrong with that
But, she, she fathered me,
I bet you think I would say,
“It was just not the same”
Indeed, but better.
She taught me what makes a man, a man
And how to fend for myself
After, i realised.
That you did not deserve to be called a man,
You are a coward in the eyes of the brave,
A faceless creature of the night.
Father can’t you understand
You are as much as a failure
As you wished to see me be,
But, I learnt the art of becoming.
And that,
I was blessed with the soul of a survivor,
the black skin of a warrior
And you,
You are nothing to me.
But,
A dead beat father
A sperm donor
An absentee loner.
I am nothing like you,
The fact that I happen to share your last name,
Is a big misdemeanour,
With that being said,
Just call me Xavier.

Footprints

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I was told to put my best foot forward,
I did the opposite.
In order to do as i was told,
I had to reevaluate the past like the Sankofa bird.
The solution to the future lies there,
Though harsh.
Imagine not having clothes on our backs,
And by the crack of the whip,
We had to work from dawn till dusk,
Little to eat just enough to keep our stomachs warm.
Scars decorating our bodies,
Each exquisitely carved like fine art,
Polished and shined in blood.
With all the odds against them,
They proudly and boldly smile,
Giving praises all the time.
They,
My,
Our ancestors endured so much for us,
To be free,
To be independent,
To be emancipated from mental slavery.
Instead materialism as gotten us going crazy,
Greed as taken its toll,
Having us purchasing our shackles and chains at the stores.
Blind sighted by the lies,
Like a crack fiend,
We want more.
This generation is lost,
Not even a sign of promise that we will find our way.
We line up for a few measly pairs of Jordans and iPhones,
Plugged into the matrix that’s eating our souls.
Undernourished brains,
Stimulated by fabricated nourishment.
Addicted to taking selfies,
Being Facebook famous is our only goal,
Still we can’t organise to take back our thrones,
Kings and queens we were back home.
And still some wonder why I reminisce,
Filled with nostalgia for our humble beginnings,
While surrounded by earthly riches
And all the silver & gold,
That can be found in Rome.

Enough Is Enough!

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It becomes an unbearable task
Watching the news,
Instead of being informed,
You end up being depressed.
Disasters all around,
Nothing seems to be changing, from sunrise to sundown.
When will enough really be enough?
Cliché as it seems;
It’s a thought that rests on our minds,
Often times too scared to make it to our mouths,
Suffocating before it makes it way out our lips,
Asphyxiation is imminent.
The need to speak out plays heavily on our hearts,
Built up courage killed by the  fear of death,
Like an undeveloped foetus destined for abortion.
Still enough is enough;
You take your last breath in observance,
Of the strong preying on the weak.
Damsels at every turn awaiting knights in shining armour,
Who are too afraid to make an entry.
Left alone to face these criminals,
Gloomy faces,
Teary eyes.
Trapped in an agonising reality
Deafening cries
falling on deaf ears
Enough is Enough!

Concrete Rose

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Imagine being raised in the most unpleasant of environments,
Temperature humid,
Atmosphere far from being great.
Dons and guns reigning,
Showering bullets more than it  rains.
This inhumane climate,
Intensified by the adverse effects of global warming,
Is like a category 5 hurricane,
Which gave no sign of a warning.
Don’t expect help from your neighbours,
The citizens here aren’t that charming.
So please don’t find it alarming,
That these gunmen have a lot of corn,
And no they’re not meant for farming.
Criminals roam the streets,
Day and night,
Without concern for who they’re harming.
So while you sleep and hug your darling,
It’s a different story here
These are the injustices,
Law abiding citizens bear.
Sleepless nights filled with anguish and fear,
Hopelessly calling for help but no one hears.
Surrounded by lifeless souls
And countless carcasses,
Just waiting to be placed in holes,
Suffocating by lies,
While battling for the truth.
Dreams turn into nightmares,
Unpleasantries everywhere.
Amidst all this chaos,
A concrete rose thrives,
Though plagued with unsurmountable destruction,
Adorned with damaged petals,
Somehow,
It survives.

Destined For Success

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They say if your from the bottom,
You’ve no right being at the top,
I’ve worked the soles off my feet,
I’ve work the clothes of my back
Just to make it this far,
Why the hell should I stop?
You’re privileged to be born with gold or silver spoon,
Yet you’d cheat me of my chance,
Of getting to the moon,
I am not a weed,
I am a seed with the proper nourishment I will bloom,
You’d be fascinated to know,
What I can do with my little wooden spoon.

Copyright © Xavier Frazer 2016

All rights reserved. Including the rights to reproduce this poem, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this poem may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.